Clarence
by frigginpixiedust
Summary: when the lines between fantasy and reality blur...


The knife cuts deeper than before. Whilst in normal circumstances my eyes would dramatically widen in shock, now is not that time. After all, I was expecting this.  
I stare. Fascinated that such a small wound…. I stare. My wounds begin to fade under my intensive gaze. I sigh to myself, content within the knowledge that soon I shall lay my weary head to rest. The pain helps to bring me there, forever drawing nearer to a final rest. Forever asleep.  
However, tonight is not the night. This fact dawns on me rather swiftly as the knife edges closer to my wrist, leaving behind it a trail of destruction matched only by the horror of a civil war, that although the cut may be deeper the pain is yet to penetrate that far. I rationalize than for the need for the knife to momentarily avoid those depths, a rare moment of humour in my otherwise bleak and lonely days.

An odd pair they make, tossing and turning in their sleep. Both worry and care in equal measures for each others wellbeing and happiness. Yet neither of them has had the sense to do anything about.  
An odd pair they make, but never a pair more made for each other then these two. Inseparable from cradle, and likely, to the grave.

Reason has left the building. Now free from my barricades of rationality and security, emotion runs riot in my mind. A once calm and prosperous sky scraper crumbles into an asylum of unchecked thoughts and feelings. My rage is first to seize this opportunity for free speech.  
"Why are you so scared?" it cries, "what's wrong with you? You… you… pathetic maggot! Just do it why don't you? Free us all from this miserable existence…".  
My mind, fuelled by adesire to live, fight against this torrent of self hatred. In defence against this rage I call upon any and all debating skill I have, now eager to have its moment in the sun,  
"Though I now nightly suffer both the physical and mental pains of my life through a knife, I still harbour hope. Optimism and a chance at happiness are never to far away. Happiness, that thing I strive so desperately for, will always find a friend in me. I will always have that chance".  
Silence echo's around these final words of mine amplifying, to near deafening tones, the as of yet hidden irony. Final words indeed…

Such a fine couple they would make too. But then it's more than just that. It's more than pure aesthetics. These two really need each other. For them it truly is a case of 'not one without the other'.

After a suitably dramatic pause my rage (now backed up by hatred, pessimism, and worst of all, fear) weaves together what were to be its final, condemning, comments.  
"Can't you see? Are you actually this blind to the truth? You won't ever, in the all the aeons of seemingly limitless time before us, ever, have a chance with…"

I'm scared for the both of them. Scared that they may never know what it was their life was missing. Oblivious to a whole side of them that they never even knew to be missing.

I can't bear to hear that name. There's only one way to forget though, a path beginning with the loss of a battle, and ending with defeat in the war. Again my hand reaches behind my pillow. Again I feel the cold metal wrapped around my bony fingers. Again a shiver runs down my spine.  
"Once more unto the breach dear friends… once more", it's funny what your mouth thinks to blurt out in your final moments. Very funny indeed, yet undeniably apt.

In a moment Spinelli was awake. It took her a moment more to realise what happened, but even then it didn't make sense.  
This is all too confusing, she thought, there must be someway to make sense of what had just happened. At least what she thought had just happened. Or even whether anything had happened at all. Spinelli's wandering gaze skipped lightly over her room (sub-consciously she avoided the mess) and onwards to her window. By coincidence she noticed TJ's room appeared too to be bathed in light.  
Spinelli held her gaze for a few minutes longer. Whilst originally her eyes had kept up with the wandering attitude her attention was just as quick to spot TJ in his room and so hold her gaze steady. She sat, unblinking, staring across the garden at his room, silently mesmerised by his rhythmic pacing. The moments turned to seconds, the seconds to minutes, eventually the minutes had gone on for long enough.  
Although it had taken Spinelli sometime to realise that perhaps TJ too had something on his mind and thus would be quite helpful to talk to, she had barely time to blink before the phone was in her hand- the number already ringing.


End file.
